Petrichor
by damnationSUSHItruck
Summary: Pity is akin to love. Petty, petty, petty, p[r]etty.
1. Chapter 1

_Quick A/U: Hello everyone~! :D I am back, and yet with a new victim! Mitsunari has been chosen to succumb to this torture where he will be ensnared with the complexities of a deep romance, amidst the thorns of betrayal, and other obstacles. Sit back and enjoy, I worked hard on this one!_

* * *

_Quintessence of the obtuse, I ought to forestall such insalubrious disservice._

He was watching the men and women mingle with narrowed, tempestuous eyes.

Observing them closely, dissecting every single detail of the room… if Ishida Mitsunari was offered the chance to instead eat his dinner in the outside frost rather than amongst the fat Japanese men that flaunted their money by means of spending it on worldly extravagances, he would have gladly chosen the latter.

If the air infected with the heavy scent of sake and pomade could be painted a colour, he would use the term rather than colour _aureate_. The excessive livery that ordained the isolated teahouse was beginning to sicken the silver and purple-clad general; this was emphasized by the scrunching of his nose routinely at the heavy blanket of over-indulgences that surrounded him.

From the rich, overweight man sinking into the cushions behind him to the spoils the courtesans on either side of his overflowing obesity offered him, the entice to cut down such demon-like populace was beginning to reach breaking-point for the Ishida.

The whores seemed to enjoy their client's drunken, poorly active state probably because of the fact that he would soon fall unconscious and they would be relieved of their errant behavior… Mitsunari continued to scowl at the sheer repulsiveness of these women and their occupation. Why hadn't they as yet committed _Hara Kiri_, just put an end to their pitiful, empty lives already?

The tub of lard at this point was being fed _fugu_ by the courtesans. They were giggling to him, whispering things of unimportance that perhaps the fat man had wanted them to tell him – things that with his carelessness and glutton, he was reduced to that of an _animal_… or perhaps even an animal had more of a conscience than he did.

The comparison would be a disgrace to even beasts.

Mitsunari had placed the payment for the mediocre meal on his table before standing. He gripped his odachi, feeling a sense of security now that he had assured himself of the weapon's presence and exited the crammed venue. He was advancing to his horse, untying the reins to the animal from its post while glaring at a couple engaged in verbal conflict. The man and woman were shouting so loud that their voices had pierced through the keen general's ears like a knife through silk.

_..._

Mitsunari had ignored them however, giving his usual response to the petty situation by offering his silence. Instead he had proceeded to mounting his horse when he was disrupted by a form flinging into him, catching him off guard completely. He had tightened his grip on the hilt of the meter-length sword, ready to cut down the mindless fools that dared to so rashly approach him—'You people make me _sick_…!'

Suzu tore herself away from the "wall", noticing the distance the men kept suddenly from her. She knew somehow that this was her chance to get away… that she could talk them into some form of guilt, some sort of persuasion that would allow her the _second_ she needed to create that distraction.

'Please excuse our servant's despicable behavior in your presence, sir,' the men that only moments ago almost beat Suzu to her death had suddenly discovered civility.

They were bowing fully – noses in line with the ground, and bald heads shining with a matt finish beneath the cold light that from the teahouse spilt onto the deserted streets.

Suzu turned on her heel, coming face-to-face with a man whose skin was the colour of dampened paper. His hair had fallen in the shape of a triangle to the bridge of his nose – his features were sharp and his eyes, even though they were chartreuse, seemed colourless too by the heaviness of his entirety. She had held eye contact with the tall, pillar-like man for a moment, and in those brief seconds she could feel nothing but bitterness emanate from his core. The controlled vacancy of his accustomed-to scowl and pursed lips sent a chill down her spine, and she wondered if not for what seemed like an eternity beneath his glower, if this _man_ really was human.

'Come here, Shi-chan,' her pursuers now addressed her affectionately; beckoning her with their hands like one would to a small child.

Suzu stared at them in disbelief of their two-faced nature. She scowled, biting into her gum as hard as she could so that she didn't scream in fear of the wall man at any moment now drawing his weapon to silence her. It was evident from his meticulous dress-code that he was a warrior – a general. Out of fear mostly though, Suzu could not find the courage to even move her body let alone think straight.

_There's nothing but bloodlust in this man's eyes._

'Remove yourselves from my sight,' he said sternly before nodding in Suzu's direction.

The usual rough grip had seized her wrists once more. The men began to drag her away from the wall of a man. She was panicking suddenly at the thought of returning to that hellhole where her life was under another's rule. She didn't want to go back to that _again_… this was her precious chance to escape.

_And yet I'm not going anywhere._

Suzu screamed, losing all self-control as she began to claw at the men that pulled her away, retracing their steps to the pleasure quarters. 'Let me go…!' she screamed, not caring for how dehumanized she probably looked at this point.

Driven by the taste of freedom that lingered on the surface of her tumultuous heart, Suzu pried her fists away from the iron grip of her capturers. Using their shock to her advantage, she sprung forward in a ruthless sprint before tripping over the folds of her white kimono beneath her. She flew into the gravel face-first – the cold stone cutting into her cheek, embedding shards of rock into the fresh grazes.

She winced, struggling to lift the weight of her weakened body off the floor with wounded wrists. Her hair had fallen over her shoulders in a moonlight curtain of threads, sticking to the sweat on her forehead, defying gravity even as the man had gripped into the mane and forced her to her feet.

'What kind of a man are you…' she grunted, having the men behind her spit bitter remarks about her appalling behavior.

They were dragging her away by her arms, holding her tightly, clutching her arms ruthlessly as they pulled her along the dirt pathway. Suzu was staring at the _wall_ in disbelief, trying desperately to wonder what kind of an individual he is that he didn't seem to even acknowledge her struggle.

'Aren't you a general!?' she was crying at this point, unable to form a coherent sentence due to the extent of her distress that it even clouded over her reason to care anymore.

Ishida Mitsunari watched this commotion however with utmost apathy.

He simply stared at the injured, fair-haired woman with unpleasant manners whom at this point sobbed pathetically… _Lord Hideyoshi would have done the same_. Interfering would only cause a ruckus, which was something the warlord wasn't fond of.

He had pushed the incident to the back of his mind though and mounted his horse, disregarding the woman whose cries grew distant with their parting… _Lord Hideyoshi would have done the same_.

* * *

Suzu held eye-contact with the man who towered over her kneeling form. The men behind her at either side began to explain dramatically how they had pulled her away from begging a war general to buy her.

_Lies, lies, lies, __**lies**__._

She continued to bite into her gum from the moment they'd brought her back. Her tears at this point had dried up on her cheeks. Their remnants embedded into the torn layer of dried blood from her jaw to her cheekbone, as if someone had rubbed red paste over the surface. Glaring at the man in charge of the brothel, Suzu scowled heavily at his haughtiness that thickened the air. She wanted to gag; to spit at him even since she didn't mind dying at this point; but was instead greeted by the usual dismissal of the servants that made certain of her return.

_Father_ – the clergyman in charge of this house of sin – glowered at the wounded courtesan's apprentice, his eyes steely. This was the fourth time this month that the girl had brought about a ruckus, and after hearing that this din was especially associated with an army general, father could find absolutely no reason to let her go unharmed.

'_Choose_.' He muttered, pointing with his chin to the collection of reed sticks beside him.

Suzu didn't answer him. She remained silent in her spot on the floor, breathing unevenly due to the accumulation of blood that spilt from her nose prior to being beat by the servants that brought her back here. The complication her lungs were undergoing was nothing though compared to the things they'd made her endure in the past.

'I forget…,' father mumbled, glaring fiercely at Suzu's crumpled form on the floor through narrowed eyes. 'Beggars can't be choosers.'

He lifted the collection of sticks in his single fist, bunching the thin whip-like canes together, but Suzu maintained her composure. She continued to hold the intense glare she and the man in front of her shared, and growling at her attempt at being bold, acting as if she was unaffected by all his ruthless efforts to tame her like a wild animal, father struck her with the cluster of branches. He had made the first line of blood across her shoulder, tempted to make the next cuts on her face to wipe off the rebellious glint in her eyes, but he knew such rash action would cost him much in future.

Instead he watched her back fall. Her head almost touched the ground with the second blow from the reeds – the impact almost bringing her down completely – but she somehow managed to level her posture once again. Suzu had controlled the pain by biting into the flesh of her arm. She kept her teeth into the muscle; shutting her eyes tightly to stop herself from crying; to make sure she wouldn't scream – to make sure she wouldn't show this man even the slightest hint of weakness.

Little did he know that the lost, _kidnapped_ first daughter of Emperor Go-Kashiwabara was an individual that brought up; without her mother; in the pleasure quarters was not taught obedience like the rest of the woman here who were swamped with nothing but debt.

* * *

_Proper A/U: _

_Hyaaaa, reviews much appreciated if you'd be generous enough to offer any! .A. I'll love you to death, I swear! _

_**Fugu**__ - blow fish. It was a very highly-priced fish to eat for how potent its poison is, yet when prepared properly the meat is cut so finely it appears to look like the petals of a chrysanthemum._

_**Hara Kiri**__ - honor killing; much like seppuku. _


	2. Chapter 2

Looking for lodging…

Searching for lodging…

_Since when is something so __**trivial**__ such a colossal __**vexation**__._

Ishida Mitsunari and his men had been travelling for two nights already with nothing more than short breaks between their tiresome voyaging. If he hadn't this "_baggage_" – as he referred to his men as – he would have continued to journey… yet their whining ultimately led to the warlord giving in to their complaints. After much internal debate, he had eventually concluded that Lord Hideyoshi would have done the same perhaps.

Lost recently in his ocean of thoughts, travelling to places; with the few men remaining in his army; the lone Ishida – in no greater solitude than one without his master – was left to roam the warring states. The country, war-torn, seeming to at this point have no value to the man with white hair and white skin consumed in reflection was nothing but a second priority now.

He was in search of a greater purpose. Of something to do now that there was nothing left to fight for without his lord.

However, Mitsunari found himself suddenly at most discomfort by the geishas sounding their shamisens further into the ryokan. For some reason, all the inns he's been to in the past few days throughout the country as he travelled was rife with people offering indulgences… their insolence only tested the general's forbearance. There were only _so_ much of these things he could take the sight of.

And yet he was scowling at the view of a woman that embellished in heavily-decorated silks, sat quietly beside an individual who seemed to be her superior. The young woman's head was bowed submissively – her face covered with white powder and her lips painted blood red. Her hair was heavily decorated with pins of elaborate colours and golden tassels that like her exotic blonde hair fell over her shoulders… the site was greatly an anomalous one.

_How ominous._

This was his second time in the midst of actually doing something taxing throughout his travels lately that he had come across yet another blonde-haired woman.

He ignored this petty suspicion nevertheless and directed his silence rather to the old man that seemed swamped with requests. Men who seemed as if they've nothing better to do. They were barking requests of the ancient homeowner for rooms, pulling along their women with them as they did. Mitsunari pursed his lips, blinking for a long moment before opening his sharp eyes to glower at the whining jester beside him. The height difference between them instantly made the latter grow cold. The silence blanketed the continuous activity of the room and gripping his odachi to make the fool sure of his position in front of the Ishida, the group of scoundrels fled the ryokan.

Yet the comforting peace was a fleeting one. The contents of the room began to soften and melt away into the pleasures of the greedy, the lustful, and due to the suffocating extravagance of the inn, Mitsunari had walked back outside, seeming to be in a rush as he did so. He was clenching his odachi ruthlessly on passing by the audience that died down into their personal delights.

_Pit of simpletons._

If perhaps he could purge this place of its grown adolescence, he would gladly draw his odachi and put an end to the naïve bunch around him… but instead he kept to himself. They were not worth his attention – their blood was not worthy of staining his blade of honor.

* * *

There was no one to watch her this time.

Suzu made sure that there were no witnesses. She had made sure that she would finally get her chance to escape this fate – and the only way she could think of that would make her living nightmare finally come to an end was _seppuku_. She gripped the wakizashi, holding it so tightly that the rope handle began to irritate her soft palm.

She was moving towards the shade of the forest. Moving almost instinctively – adrenalin pumping through her veins – she dropped to her knees and raised the knife.

She shut her eyes.

_There's no turning back._

* * *

Ishida Mitsunari walked pensively along the dirt pathway that was surrounded by nothing but deep greenery. The road was dead silent. The rustling of the leaves had seized for an instant before the wind picked up in a random pattern, oddly blowing west and then north.

He was staring into the miniature tornado of leaves that brewed in front of him. Dust flew up into the air, circling the freshly-fallen leaves, resembling the mighty natural disaster that he'd only heard of but had never seen before. He was walking forward with intention to step into the tiny whirlwind, or run straight into it and past it, when the blinding light of a star; it seemed; had struck the side of his eye.

He whipped his silver head around and in an instant was at the site of the beam of light responsible. He kept his fingers curled around the hilt of the great sword, glaring intently at the perpetrator, drawing his sheathed odachi into the air which had knocked the weapon out of his enemy's hands. The short sword glinted against the dark maroon sky as it hurled itself into the air before plunging tip-first into the ground away from their remote position.

'How cowardice… how_ever_ predictable of _scum_,' he scowled, glowering heavily at the fool who attempted to assassinate him.

He raised his chin in attempt to get a better view of his assailant but was unable to due to the darkness that poured in from around the trees. Their shade had ultimately plastered the vicinity, blocking even the moonlight which made it impossible to distinguish the enemy.

But then again, such a thing didn't matter to the Ishida. He would crush the weak imposter, be it a man, a woman, an animal, an _infant_, he would put an end to their insignificant being. Using his mechanical strength as he plunged the odachi into the enemy's throat first, instead he felt the weight of the person shift suddenly as if involuntarily, and then his sword had sunk into the soft foliage of the woodland floor.

Eyes widening in the slightest of shock of his attacker's skill to maneuver in the dark, Mitsunari turned, heaving his sword defensively. With his yellow-tinged eyes contracting into the light of the area, he focused on the enemy that at this point began to flee.

Apart from his disgust in reflection of such a cowardice action, the dark king stepped forward, lightly pushing his foot into the ground. Instantly he was facing his enemy, sending his sharpened odachi flying towards his assailant's head but noted ocherous strands of hair air-borne instead. The oddity allowed him to drop his guard if for a split second where the woman now beneath his eye-level struck out her wakizashi at his shins.

Mitsunari had easily evaded the attack by stepping back. He raised his odachi again, bringing it down fluidly with an effortless flick of his wrist, waiting for the splatters of blood to stain his uniform…

Suzu grunted, gripping into the blood-oozing wound on her shoulder desperately. The pain was searing through her entire body, pulsing with every heartbeat agonizingly. She was gritting her teeth; trying to suppress the hot path of cut flesh his sword gave birth to on the left side of her body; but it was to no avail.

_So much for trying to kill myself… instead I'm going to be killed by a complete stranger._

She had no recollection of why she and the unfamiliar individual were battling. She was drawing the shortened katana, about to plunge it into her abdomen when suddenly she was attacked… she had guessed for a moment that it was father, or even perhaps one of his subordinates attempting to beat her up and take her back, but she was proved wrong by her attacker's inaudibility.

Surely if it was one of those sick men from the brothel they would have been spitting curse after curse at her. They would have played around with her, not attempted to do her a favour by giving her such an instantaneous death…

Suzu jerked forward, choking on the strong smell of something thick and metallic that accumulated in her throat and gagged. She leaned forward despite her efforts to keep her dignity even in death and vomited blood, painting the already dark ground an even blacker shade of gloom.

Mitsunari watched the woman press her opened palms down into the wet foliage. Her left arm was completely limp, seeming broken almost as she attempted using it as an additional crutch for her weak body. Instead she plummeted into the ground face-first. He was staring at her with a mixture of emotions he wasn't familiar with… she was weak, something obviously a waste of his time. She had attempted to kill him regardless of her low-leveled stealth.

And yet somehow he felt responsible for her death, be it even a small, miniscule fraction of his conscience, which was again an oddity.

He stood there for a moment longer, staring inertly at her twitching form on the floor. Had she really tried to kill him? Was that her true intent? Why hadn't she attacked him then? Why hadn't she fought back if that were the case?

Suzu used her remaining strength to push the weight of her body over. She grunted, rolling onto her back as she stared up at the individual responsible for rather oddly doing her the favour of granting her the death she longed, but could not adjust her madly-strained eyes. She could feel the ripped flesh of her shoulder spasm uncontrollably and spluttered blood. Her head began to hurt at the sheer power it took to focus on the face of her executioner, and noting nothing but the colour white against the darkness of the sky, she smiled (or at least she tried to) at the site of an angel.


	3. Chapter 3

_How cumbersome._

Ishida Mitsunari stood clutching his scabbard, towering easily over the man that bowed deeply in front of him. He was a balding man – one the warlord could sniff nothing but indulgence and insolence on – who dressed simply, or at least seemed to appear as a commoner.

'A thousand apologies for the utmost impudence of my servant, Ishida-dono… how shall we ever compensate such an affair? Have you any requests, perhaps?'

He instantly tuned out the apologies and praises coming from the man's mouth. His presence here was a complete waste of his time. There was nothing that he wanted from the man, and he had mentioned this earlier with the initial batch of apologies that spilt from his mouth.

'Be grateful for my pity. That is all.' He put out blatantly to the old man which finally seemed to keep his mouth shut.

Satisfied by the dismissal of the man as he had left the inn, Mitsunari turned his attention to the stillness of the room. He closed his eyes, taking in the hint of pomade and lemon flowers from outside that poured into the chamber. It was most definitely an hour of peace – one that eased the warlord's conscience, as he began to mentally brainstorm the routes available for him and his men to take out of this village.

It wasn't long however until the ruckus had returned into the ryokan. Heavily displeased with the high level of activity in the vicinity, Mitsunari had grouped his men together and was ready to leave.

The men had mounted their horses, arranging their usual formation beside and behind one another, ready to take off at their leader's command. Comments of his foul mood floated about lazily between men; each of them groaning at his unmoving personality; but the general was skilled at tuning them out mostly out of disinterest. He hadn't cared much for what people thought of him, but his ears were nonetheless keen for his lord's name.

Mitsunari had grabbed a hold of the steed's reins, about ready to mount the animal when a vague form had appeared in front of their path. He wasn't as surprised as he ought to have been at the site however. Calmly he halted his men for a further minute as they all fell into a spell of silence, suspiciously eyeing the form that stumbled towards them.

It was the woman from last night's ordeal… he could not mistake the colour of her hair, for it was the only thing about her that he actually remembered from their conflict the night before.

He scowled at the site though, raising his chin at the weak individual as she gripped her wounded shoulder. The bandages that were at one stage clean white had eventually stained red from some sort of physical strain she put on her body. He could tell this much from the struggled heaving of her chest as she breathed in the cold evening air.

_How_

_unforgivably_

**_cumbersome_**_._

* * *

Her presence only added to the foul mood of the general. He was in no disposition to deal with her apologizing, her prodding, be it whatever she was offering with her attendance.

'Remove yourself from my course, wench.' He ordered her, arching his back as he spoke, maintaining his near-perfect posture.

Suzu had stopped dead in her tracks. Lately she had found a good escape-route from the pleasure quarters, having the other little courtesan helpers to keep her actions quiet. Under father's supervision however, it was no easy task, but in the past few days he had been seated with the customers, and this had given Suzu her chance to leave the hellhole.

And tonight, she planned to leave for good.

She was hauling the bag of her belongings behind her as she walked, struggling with it over her shoulder as it weighed her down considerably. She hadn't let her shoulder heal as much as it ought to, and quite frankly, she was in a terrible state at this point. Her skin was pale and paper-like – frail and drained of blood completely. Her body was weak; every past scar, wound, gash began to burn into her skin… but she continued to tell herself that this was nothing compared to what she's been through before.

'Ishida Mitsunari of Omi,' she managed to project her voice well despite her weak state. 'I request your permission – in repayment of my debt – to humbly devote the rest of my life to your forces.'

The Ishida had grown tired of these people testing his patience. He gripped his odachi a little tighter and lowered his chin; keeping his narrowed menacing eyes dead-ahead at the troublesome woman… he was highly un-amused.

Despite her proposal however, Suzu was scowling inwardly. Keeping their eyes locked in a looming stare-off, she knew from their first encounter when he had dismissed her distress that this man was heartless. He was filled with bitterness, hatred, emptiness… she hadn't wanted to look deeper than that. And yet God had worked in the strangest of ways.

Well, at least if there _was_ even a God since he's already put her through countless hardships.

And now one of those hardships had to include one of the most impossible means of her escape… to use her situation to her advantage to join the Ishida army in repayment of her debt. It was the only way she could think of when it came to finding a way out of being controlled by father.

'Remind me why I would problem myself with a useless _peasant_ like you,' he announced, not wanting to waste away any more words on the uninvited individual.

He had mounted his steed, clutching the animal's reins in anticipation of finally leaving the bustle of the confined village. It was the nightmare Suzu had anticipated. She didn't expect the _wall_ to listen to what she had to say, and she hadn't assumed that he'd so easily agree to her request either.

But she wasn't going to let go of the opportunity without at least putting up a fight. The load on her good shoulder made her stumble forward as she began taking her first steps toward the warlord. She was biting onto her lip, praying rarely that she wouldn't at any moment now fall flat on her face, and managed to reach the leader in front of his men whom scowled heavily at Suzu. Mitsunari viewed this woman as nothing but a trivial annoyance that wasted his time. He knew he could have left this place already if not for the exasperating amount of determination in this individual, and somehow this attribute of hers intrigued him. He couldn't, however, personally accept that she was in the _least_ interesting.

He had far too much pride for such petty taxes.

Instead he was looking down upon the bowing woman. Her body had folded almost completely in half with the extent of the posture. He could clearly notice the strain it inflicted on her broken body by the disorderly pattern of her heavy breaths. Nonetheless he was apathetic toward her struggle.

'I assure you of my undying loyalty, Ishida-dono… you have my word…,' she had reached for her bandaged shoulder, yanking at the tail of the wrap which in turn exposed the deep wound.

'I swear on this lesion, that if you still deem me unworthy of subservience to you by the time it has healed, you may satisfy your blade's thirst a thousand times over with my blood.' – She hadn't wanted to resort to this condition, but she was running out of alternatives.

The general in front of her was a man whose mind wasn't easily changed. He was not one accustomed to change, and she noticed this with the brutal honesty he had towards his men. He was a person of straight-forward character, concealing nothing even at first meeting, and this was yet another aspect of the man that scared her. Even though she tried to hold herself with pride in front of him, she knew that in his eyes, she was nothing more than a mountain of burden on his shoulders regardless of their incredible ability to constantly keep level.

'How bold, _wretch_,' he moved forward on his horse, as if royalty.

He had stopped beside her, eyeing her with his gilded eyes that nested malice and disapproval to the extreme. As if he had tasted something bitter with her overflowing confidence however, the Ishida scowled before directing his attention to the road ahead of him.

'Very well… I shall comply,' he mumbled deeply, quickly whipping his head around again to glare at Suzu as she continued to bore holes into the ground.

The weight of his primrose glower buckled her legs. She felt as if she were being weighed by the contents of the ocean as she stood beneath his threatening frown. She gulped, clenching her jaw in anticipation of perhaps even more soundless beating from the heavy amount of hate that emanated from his narrow eyes, but was greeted by the site of the Ishida's sheathed odachi.

'Step out of line, I _dare_ you, and this blade shall be the last thing your irksome eyes lay their gaze upon.'

Despite the fear his words had placed into her core, Suzu knew that there was no turning back. She would have to go along with his conditions if it meant escaping father and that despicable lifestyle she put up for almost all her life now.


	4. Chapter 4

To her surprise, the small gathering of men behind the sour Ishida was a bunch of ordinaries.

Suzu had expected haughty soldiers, marching behind their leader as if he was a god, but to her amazement, they were nothing but nice blokes. Often during their journeying they would comment on the unpleasantness of their leader, tossing about remarks of astonishment based on his actions the other day in certain battles when he fought… and this had sparked an interesting addition to the mysterious Ishida Mitsunari.

It had been two weeks after their agreement on leaving the village together. Suzu mused on this a while longer as she watched the tea brew in front of her. She touched her shoulder lightly, reminiscing on the agreement she had made with the _wall_. She was curious to see what had become of the wound since then.

The slash however, during the first time that evening when she was travelling with the army was one filled with distasteful memories. She remembered almost nothing of that evening except for the continuous routine of passing out every now and again, waking up to remind herself that she was in no position to lose consciousness. The wound began to fester over time until a few hours later they had camped and the men – being nice enough compared to their leader's child-like temper – helped her tend to and re-bandage the deep cut.

Ever since then she'd made good friends with them, even memorizing the names of most of the soldiers which had in turn earned her the title of their '_nee-chan_'. They had even picked out the standard size armor for her to fit into the Ishida forces.

Regardless of their affection however, Suzu had avoided any personal questions they directed at her for the sole reason of concealing the fact that she is the first daughter of the emperor.

Not that she remembered being kin of royalty though.

She was far too young, far too naïve to even register that the night she met a stranger in the palace garden would be the last time she was ever going to be in such a position. From then on all she had memories of was growing up in father's abode. He was the man that had put her in the care of strangers, teaching her to be an obedient woman, but it wasn't long until she had found out about what he really was planning to turn her into—'Oi, oi, how did you get _those_ sorts of scars, nee-chan?'

Suzu jumped at the sudden question, looking up to find the group of soldiers surrounding her at the little cooking fire.

She was staring at them a little taken aback, intimidated at the intensity of their staring and directed her attention to the exposed impressions of scratches on her arms. She had rolled up the sleeves of her haori, not expecting any of the men to be up and about at this hour of the night, but she cursed at herself mentally before hiding her wrists beneath the curtaining robe.

'B-battle scars, right, we all have them,' she laughed, waving off the subject on returning her attention to the tea that at this point bubbled to its boiling point.

She got up quickly from her spot on the floor, struggling to maintain her balance due to the pins-and-needles that accumulated in her numbed legs. She had been seated badly in front of the brewing tea for over five minutes, simply dozing off into recollections of her past that she completely forgot about preparing the drink for her leader.

Somehow the tea had become a ritual of hers. She couldn't recall how, but every night since she had joined the Ishida army, she was responsible for preparing their general's tea. At first she had expected the man – bringing surface to the instances where his meticulous character _blinded_ her – to shun her and the tea she made, but she had noticed a little crack in his defense with this…

He _liked_ her tea.

Even though it was a shameless thing to brag about based upon the whereabouts of her tea-making talent, she felt proud of the fact that the tea was so good it even pleased the most painstaking of men in the whole of Japan.

And so she was balancing the tray in her hands, musing happily to herself as she ambled casually to the direction of her leader whom sat in complete isolation. This too was part of the routine, of course. He would be distanced from the rest of his men, as if breaking himself away from the world, retreating to his own little sub-conscious planet.

Suzu placed the tray down beside the man, neither of them saying a word. She was smiling on the inside at the odd thought that suddenly came to her then – at the realization of just how insane her life had been in the past few weeks. It was quite an achievement actually; the entire ordeal of trying to commit _seppuku_, being attacked instead by this man for no particular reason, escaping father's pleasure quarters, travelling with the Ishida and his men… no one would believe this because of the extent of how ridiculous this actually sounded.

* * *

She was walking back to the camp, sighing at her leader's terrible communication skills that continued with yet another evening of serving him tea. Throughout the two weeks of her stay so far the _wall_ has remained the _wall_. There was no startling change in his personality, he was just a robot fixed on emotions such as distrust and _malice_.

Sighing a second time at the site of her messy workstation, Suzu advanced to cleaning up her tools.

Hotaru – a fellow colleague soldier of hers – was still awake and camping nearby her whereabouts. He chewed on a sprig of grass, pouting tiredly as Suzu advanced to join him in watching the stars. She had enjoyed the silence they shared, simply basking in one another's company in disbelief of their sad lives… not that she complained though.

This was far better than having her life ruled by a bunch of bastards.

'Nee-chan, those scars are really something else, aren't they,' he was staring at her exposed wrists – his eyebrows upturned in a subtle frown.

Feeling self-conscious suddenly by their constant prodding at wanting to know how she'd attained such scars on her arms, Suzu pulled down her sleeves quickly. She pouted at him, scowling childishly at his question and remained silent for a moment.

'Mind your own business, Hotaru…'

He chuckled, low and deep. 'Sorry for asking. It's just that we all have scars, you know – reminders of our struggles…,' he shrugged. 'I was _just_ asking.'

Suzu remained silent for a while longer in thought of his question. She knew she couldn't say anything that would give away much information about her past – so personal data was completely out of the question. Instead she began to draw circles into the grass with the tip of her index finger, keeping it hovering over the ground now and again in deep thought.

'… These scars are a reminder that forcing a person to do something only makes them more defiant. If an individual really thinks brute physical effort can move the heaviest of rocks, they're only adding more weight and solidity to that stone.'

* * *

Ishida Mitsunari's ears perked at this statement.

* * *

Suspiciously pushy Hotaru's smirk widened at this new discovery.

* * *

_A/U: Quick thanks to _pantera-tease_ for sending in the first of reviews for the story! ^^ Kyaa, it excites me, thank you so much! Please send in your reviews, guys, I'd love to know if you're enjoying the fanfic. Comments on improvement are most welcome! :D_


	5. Chapter 5

_Five minutes._

There was no doubt that the warlord would leave behind his unpunctual soldiers.

Suzu was panicking, struggling to pull over the heavy metal plates of the uniform over her injured shoulder as she rushed to join the rest of the men leaving.

_Five minutes, five minutes._

She struggled to shut out the little voice at the back of her head that kept repeating the amount of time she had left until she was certain the general would leave her behind. He was not a man of tolerance, not a man of patience, and she was convinced that her spontaneous food-making would cost her her life far earlier than she expected.

_Five minutes, what, five minutes are up._

She was refraining from saying to herself that she'd be dead in the next few seconds. It was a gorgeous day outside. The sun had struck the field harshly, bringing life to the tiny yellow flowers in the grass that flourished despite the drumming of the horse's hooves as they galloped past.

'My apologies, Mitsu—' 'How _dare_ you test my patience, woman…!'

Suzu jumped at the hostility in his shout that so early in the morning already spoilt the rest of her day. Even though the bitter general was not a man of many words, when it came down to making him lose his cool, he would offer you a mouthful of complaints and insults… however, five minutes were definitely _not_ worth this sort of excessive verbal punishment.

After enduring the brutal lecturing of her general, Suzu was finally given permission to mount her steed and join them.

* * *

The complaints from his men behind him had started off as a hum at the back of his mind. Ishida Mitsunari tuned them out completely though and kept his focus directly in front of him, moving forward. He could not have been bothered with their petty grievances, which had revolved around nothing but back aches, head pains and some other personal, trivial affairs. It was an insignificant thing to note, but Mitsunari hadn't once heard the _woman's_ voice. He was confident of his keen ears, and even listening intently into the men's pointless groaning, he could not perceive sound of her feminine voice that ought to have stood out amongst the masculine ones.

He glanced over his shoulder out of "_curiosity_". He strained his ears to hear her voice, but still, there was nothing. Instead he decided to rely on his eyes, searching for the ocular proof of her presence or even some sort of proof of her showing a weakness… in place of his significant searching however, he found himself staring at the female addition to his army instead.

It was a surprising site – he only noticed now – to find a woman travelling amidst men, dressed in a purple and gray uniform which signified her loyalty to the Ishida army. He hadn't taken note of the true colour of her hair though, which at this point was exposed to the sunset as she strode forward on her horse. Like strands of feathery peach silk, her hair was bunched together in an untidy bun at the back of her head, having threads loosely dangling over her shoulders. She held her helmet in the crook of her arm as the horse moved, cradling it almost as she held conversation with the soldier beside her, and she smiled occasionally too…

His "_curiosity_" was a rather uncomfortable thing.

Mitsunari turned around again and continued to stare ahead at the path before him that with dusk began to darken with the intrusive shade of the surrounding trees. Nightfall had neared, creeping balefully with the setting of the sun, and regardless of the ominous shiver that shot down Suzu's spine as she rode with her fellow soldiers, she knew their leader would not be camping for tonight.

Yet disregarding the minor reaction the cloak of evening darkness prickled on her skin, Suzu turned to ease her restlessness. 'Say, everyone, when we camp again I'm going to make…'

There was no one behind her.

Suzu stopped her horse, halting in panic at the sudden disappearance of the men that were just seconds ago right behind her.

_Tell me this is a bad joke._

She couldn't brush off the overwhelming sense that something terrible was about to happen. She could feel the unease nest in her gut with every second she stared back into the void of forest. Her breathing staggered and she was beginning to convince herself that this was no prank.

'Nee-chan, watch out!' someone from behind her shouted, and just as quickly she was pushed off of her horse and onto the ground.

Suzu winced, rolling onto her back painfully, recovering from the impact of the fall that luckily her good shoulder took the brunt of. Quickly recouping her composure, she reached for her wakizashi and managed to get off the ground on her knees. She drew the weapon and steadied her uneven breaths, concentrating on the dark for the faintest of whispers, the softest of footsteps, anything she could use to her advantage then.

Relieved by their attacker's inactivity, Suzu was able to attend to the wounded soldier beside her that had taken an arrow to his right lung. She stared at the wound, frowning gravely at the site of the man in intense pain who at this point began to cough up blood. She was unsure of how to treat the severe injury, but the first thing that had occurred to her as she stared at the man in agony was to somehow remove the weapon from his chest… and yet the little voice at the back of her head was again telling her that such a reckless action would instead make him bleed to death.

She knew her options were limited, and her time was too. She was pressing her palms around the wound, applying pressure to the gushing lesion to suppress blood flow to the area when someone had yanked at her hair. Suzu screamed, having her mouth suddenly compressed against the underside of a person's hand and then her bloodied hands were seized behind her back in an instant.

_Where's that damn general?_

It was the first thought that crossed her panicked mind. The second was to bite her assailant's hand to get him to stagger and then she could find a means of escape.

She ignored both thoughts however and stuck both her legs behind the enemy's at her back. She pulled them forward again, sending both her and the foe into the mud where she managed to free her hands and regain her balance. She had dropped the wakizashi, unsure of its whereabouts and in a far too risky position to go searching for it right now. Instead she was cursing her leader, wondering where he could possibly be at this hour when his men honestly needed him.

* * *

Ishida Mitsunari sauntered gracefully beneath the rustle of the willows. Shoulders slumped, eyes dead-ahead at his prey in the dark, armored fingers clutching the scabbard of his odachi, the warlord scowled in utmost discontentment. Descending into the pit of darkness lit by a mere fallen torch, the general in his already-foul-mood was witness to the site of his feminine addition to his men in struggle with another masked individual.

She was unarmed, engaged in some sort of judo with her assailant. They were grappling one another in the mud until her enemy had gained the upper hand by getting to his feet. He stared down at her pathetic state as she huffed, evidently fatigued by their constant struggle on the ground, and just as quickly, the man's fist collided with the side of her face.

Her salmon pink hair whipped across her face on impact of the powerful blow. She staggered if not for a moment, seeming to at any moment now topple over, but she had managed to fist her hands into the ground to root herself. Quickly building momentum she threw her body forward, launching the top of her head into the man's gut but her efforts were seemingly useless in her weak state. Her assailant had used this opportunity to break through her defense by crushing his foot into her injured left shoulder, driving her into the ground with the immense pain that even caused her to yelp.

There was something strange about the familiarity that radiated from the enemy. Mitsunari however, indifferent to the detailed contents of his army, was far too displeased for words.

Drawing his odachi; making sure his opponent could hear the screech of his metal blade as he unsheathed the sword; the menacing air that loomed over his dipped gaze asphyxiated even the cool, once-serene evening air. Like acid his malevolence dripped from the tip of his blood-thirsty blade.

'As expected from the God of Misfortune,' Hotaru pulled down his mask, smirking triumphantly at the site of his aggravated leader.

He didn't plan on getting too involved with the wicked Ishida. After confirming that the woman in his hands right now was the real first daughter of the Emperor Go-Kashiwabara, all his mind was then set on was the power her kidnapping would place in his hands. He would demand ransom for her, all sorts of payments in pleasure and not have a care in the world.

But _first_, he would have to somehow get rid of the Dark King. 'Would you rather a double agent or a _liar_? Take a good look at her disloyalty – spitting in the face of your kindness…' Hotaru turned to glare at Suzu who at this point was completely immobile due to the re-kindled pain in her shoulder.

_The revulsion of__** treachery**__._

He was far too possessed with scorn to register his actions.

He was far too familiar with the dismay, the bitterness of betrayal, such _infidelity_.

Mitsunari with lightning speed flicked his wrist, launching his arm forward as the extension came into contact with flesh. Striking through the sharpened weapon of his enemy's, breaking steel with steel; he had cut clean through the traitor's right arm. Splitting the flesh and bone fluidly with the single stroke of his blade, the warlord – tuning out the intense cries of his injured opponent – toppled over his foe without much effort, glowering maddeningly at his pathetic state on the floor. Blood had pooled around his crumpled form, staining the once-gray uniform that symbolized Hideyoshi's reign carried down in the hands of his young successor.

_How __**dare**__ he touch what's mine._

And over the two weeks of observing the woman in repayment of her debt by offering her undying loyalty to him, his "_curiosity_" ultimately transformed into a sense of domination, _ownership_ of her. Surely the scar he'd given her was the ocular proof of her obligation to him. As long as the remnants of that lesion lay on her body, she belonged to him.

And that very woman - the strangled voice of hers - had pulled him out of his fit of rage.

He hadn't strained to hear what she was saying. In actuality, he was suddenly rather bothered and would have preferred to be alone.

Mitsunari advanced to whipping off the blood from his blade with a simple flick of the sword. Quickly sheathing the odachi shortly after, he stood at full height again and turned away from the site of carnage his rage gave birth to. He proceeded to the woman on the floor that was paralyzed by the intense pain in her shoulder. She was trying to say something – it seemed – in her horrible state, almost languishing like some sort of animal in her agony when the general beckoned for her to stand.

On noting her idleness however, the warlord simply stared at her bloodied wrist; somewhat boring holes into it as he did due to the brainpower it took in his decision of what to do. He could tell that she was thoroughly fatigued and in no condition to move by herself due to the re-opening of her shoulder wound…

And all that brainpower had cost him the grief of _touching_ the pauper.

Even though it took him an instant to do; almost less than a _second_ since he was far too disgusted at the mere thought of holding her wrist; what it really looked like was him pinching her arm with his armored fingers, letting go again the moment she was in a sitting position.

Mitsunari watched her out of this "_curiosity_", noting the way she huffed hysterically that her back threatened to give up. Directing his attention to their surroundings shortly after though, the general scanned the dark area, taking in the view of nothing but a complete blanket of shadows. He had passed by an assortment of bodies on reaching the woman earlier but he hadn't taken notice of them up until now to determine whether or not they were alive… and of course, the result was in favour of the latter.

Hotaru's deceit had cost him the few men he had… and there was nothing he could do with a mere woman making up the contents of his army.

Suzu had managed to gain mobility once again in her right arm. Even though it cost her great amounts of exertion from all the operational muscles in her body, she had managed to somehow rise to her knees. She was advancing to her feet, springing forward when her legs buckled and threw her hand ahead to grab onto the closest thing possible for support, but her hand only came into contact with a _wall_.

_Whack_.


	6. Chapter 6

Ishida Mitsunari began to ponder the possibilities of his attack to her head the previous evening giving her a brain defect perhaps.

The woman had been asleep for the entire night following the events that had unfolded concerning Hotaru's betrayal. The warlord hadn't meant to this ruthlessly knock her unconscious last night, but then again, he hated physical contact, let alone being _touched_ by someone _else_… the thought created a bitter taste at the back of his mouth.

He was still, after all, trying to push aside the memory of hauling her up over her horse thereafter. She was surprisingly heavy for her small frame and seemed dead actually since the hurried action didn't even make her flinch… _nothing_ he tried had seemed to affect her in such a state. If he'd perhaps waited for her to wake up though, that would have been a waste of precious time – he couldn't afford to make way for such trivial affairs.

And yet last night's situation gave the general no choice but to return to Omi.

* * *

Eyes contracting beneath the flood of light that escaped in through the gaping shutters of the foreign room, Suzu lay in bed, staring at the wooden ceiling of her unknown whereabouts, her mind a complete blank…

_What… where am I… what happened…?_

_Ow._

Her hand instantly moved to her shoulder. She kept it there for a moment, wracking her brain as she rested peacefully, bathing in the tranquility of the unfamiliar room. Instead she was breathing in the wonderful scents that flooded in from the open windows which comprised of gardenias and basil, which struck her as an odd combination.

She was tempted to unroll the sheets and step outside into the inviting perfumes that saturated into her skin. She was curious to find out where she was since it definitely wasn't an inn… a ryoka would be full of bustle and usually a garden would be visible from the rooms. Yet even though the shutters were left open and the wind – surprisingly warm and comfortable – in abundance wrapped itself around the contents of the room, she could see no greenery on the other side… except for the top of a tree.

She tried not to question this too much for how physically drained she was at this point. Instead of brooding over where she was and how she got here, Suzu continued to stare up at the ceiling, simply happy that wherever she was, she was at peace and that surely meant she wasn't back at the brothel.

'How terrible though, the scars on her body…'

'Shh; be quiet, Tori, what if someone hears you…!' there was a pause.

'Perhaps she is Mitsunari-sama's bride…?' 'How shameless, Asami…'

'Look at how beautiful she is though… she looks just like a peach tree…'

'True, true, agreed, Hachi.'

The remarks instantly made Suzu sit up in bed. Despite the cutting sensation in her dormant shoulder wound, the fact that the women mentioned something about her being the "_bride_" of their unpleasant _Mitsunari-sama_ was not something she was so easily going to let slide. Apart from how disturbing the actuality of the thought was, she didn't want to give anybody the wrong impression… if that general had to somehow hear word of this, she couldn't anticipate the reaction of his grotty personality, and the unknown-factor of it was what scared her out of her wits.

The girls behind her squeaked in shock at their patient's abrupt afternoon rise. They hadn't expected her to be awake this soon after being asleep for one entire day (according to the information they were given from their daimyo).

'Momo-sama's awake…!' Hachi cried, getting to her feet as the rest of the servants scrambled to their workstations.

_Momo-sama…?_

'How are you feeling, Momo-sama?'

Suzu – still somewhat recovering from the spell of pain she inflicted on herself upon sitting up unexpectedly from bed – managed to take in the form of the middle-aged girl that carried a tray of things in her hands. She continued to stare at the young house servant, watching her as she carefully lifted the porcelain cup of tea and placed it beside her patient.

After so simply shifting the drink however that Suzu was unable to reach for even if she wanted to, the servant advanced to gathering things of secrecy it seemed. With her coral hair now straining to reach the front of her shoulders as she leaned forward, craning her neck to look closer into what the young girl was planning to do, she had managed to catch glimpse of the bandage that hung from the girl's hands. She held a clump of white paper rope between her fingers.

The first thing she had done, however, was bow as she turned to face Suzu. Puzzled at the girl's respectful response to her almost-crippled form in bed, she began to grow suspicious of her current whereabouts… surely…

This place could not be Edo Castle.

'Pardon my rudeness, Momo-sama,' the girl murmured, raising her head again as she reached for Suzu's left shoulder.

Instinctively Suzu pulled away. Apart from fear of the pain somehow resurfacing beneath the servant's touch, the girl was a complete stranger. She could be an enemy, one of father's detectives… she didn't like to assume things, but she was in no position to accept people's pleasant fronts.

_People_ were deceiving, cunning creatures built to feed on the misfortune of others. That was the impression father had physically scarred her with.

Hachi flinched at Momo's sudden guard. The peach-haired woman with her right hand covered her left shoulder defensively and winced at even the impact of the gentle touch. The servant sat forward quickly, perking at her dependent's cringing. She could tell that the wound was an old one that she carried back with the daimyo of Omi by how intricately it affected her every movement.

'Please refrain from moving about carelessly, Momo-sama…!' Hachi cried, stopping herself only inches away from touching the woman for fear of being rejected a second time.

Suzu hadn't reacted though to the girl's aid. She frowned, biting into her gum in an attempt to ease the burning sensation that blistered into the open flesh of her aggravated shoulder wound.

Hachi took her passive response as a means to continue with the treatment. She reached for the medicinal cloths behind her and hesitated at pulling aside her patient's haori… but she also bore in mind that this was no time to be particular of such trivial things.

'Please pardon my rudeness.' She announced for the second time before tearing away the haori.

Protectively both Suzu's hands flew to her chest. She was adamantly self-conscious of the sarashi tied over her breasts for obvious reasons. Hachi however disregarded her introversion and as gently as she could so as to not further tax the lesion, managed to pry away her patient's hands from her chest. She slowly began to tend to the poorly-bandaged shoulder wound and applied particular remedies to the area.

Hachi had expected the blush-colour haired woman to be a rather chirpy individual. She hadn't believed the rest of her fellow servants when they'd spoken of the amount of scars she had on her back especially, but now that she was staring dead ahead at the proof of their talks, she couldn't help but wonder how on earth a celestial maiden such as her could have acquired such unruly mutilation… perhaps it was the reason behind her aloofness.

'What is this place?'

Hachi perked at the sound of her unfamiliar voice. 'You are in _Omi_, Momo-sama… welcome to Sawayama Castle,' she smiled at the back of Suzu's head, returning her attention to the wound she was still bandaging.

The silence ensued. It was an uncomfortable one – the both of them waiting for the other one to say something.

'Um… I'm sorry about earlier…'

Hachi had smiled at the final product of her finely-tuned skill at tying the sarashi. Slowly she directed the warm expression to the peach woman whom stared back sheepishly, as if apologizing with her slumped shoulders as well.

'There's no need for an apology, Momo-sama,' Hachi prostrated.

Slightly embarrassed by the respectful gesture, Suzu beckoned the servant to raise her head just as quickly. _Sawayama Castle of Omi…_ she was in the Ishida's abode.

'Please, call me Suzu,' she mumbled, unsure of how to react to the awkward pause that added to her anxiety in the empty room.

The constant pronunciation of this name however by the Sawayama Castle's gathering of servants in her room had brought surface to the origin of this _Momo-sama_. The women had explained to her that on their daimyo's return to the castle, the only thing he informed them to do was to "_take care_" of the "_peasant_". They were given no details of her, not a name, who she was, nothing. And the colour of her hair was the first thing that stuck out to them… _peach_. Hence: _Momo_.

_The man's apathy is actually one of an aggravating height._

* * *

_Left, right._

_Left right, left right, left , left, behind._

Drawing and sheathing his odachi at lightning speed beneath the vicious clouds that floated gloomily above the castle, Ishida Mitsunari took in his first breath after suppressing his lungs for the duration of the complex, carefully-timed attack.

_Petrichor_ – the fresh smell of rain on dry ground – had invaded his nostrils. Its pungent perfume had sharpened his vision, sharpened his senses as he kneeled so far below eye-level it cut his actual height in half. He spread his legs, clutching the hilt of the odachi, instantaneously launching the extension of his right arm into the air in an array of slashes that wounded the air with luminous amethyst lacerations.

'Would you rather a double agent or a _liar_?'

The question vexed him. _Be it he insinuates that the peasant stands a deceiver as well?_ Troubled greatly by the dead conspirator's poem of a query, the warlord channeled his rage to the stone pathway on which he stood upon. He brought down his scabbard to the floor, scoring a centimeter-wide trench into the solid rock… this however did not seem to remedy his infuriation.

'Bring me the commoner! I demand to speak with the woman.'

The servants all stood tossing dumb-founded expressions at one another at the aggressive request of the Ishida. It was the first thing he had said the moment he set foot into the wooden historical castle. The second thing he did was place his odachi in its katanakake. The third was drawing the strings to his armor back to loosen the heavy attire.

Sawayama Castle of Omi was the only place where the Ishida's mind was at ease.

He was seated in the confines of his room, secretly enjoying the pleasant silence that enveloped every crevice of his surroundings. The sun – barely visible due to the accumulation of thick gray clouds that loomed in its place – seemed to be in cacophony with the bare trees that with autumn began to unclothe themselves gradually.

The stillness however was a short-lived one.

He whipped his silver head around to find the woman prostrating herself in front of the shoji… if it weren't for his "_curiosity_" however, he wouldn't have so easily overlooked her misdoings if not for a split second…

If perhaps this "_curiosity_" is really what he imagines it is anyway.

'I command you to spout the reason behind your falsehood, woman,' he scowled. 'If you wish for a swift death, that is… choose your words wisely.'

'How generous of your hospitable character, Ishida Mitsunari…,'

He was taken aback by the sudden rise of insolence that flowed to the brimful in her tawny eyes. It was the first time he had set site on her full form, watching her as she arched her back and rose to her extensive height like a budding flower.

This was the cause of his inability to register how bold her '_intimation_' came across as.

'How _dare_ you speak to me with such _valour_!' as usual his question was more a statement than anything else. If he hadn't been in Sawayama Castle he would have reached for his odachi without a second thought, without a single hint of delay… yet what held him back was the intensity of his "_curiosity_" now that she had just defied him with her newfound ability to articulate so boldly.

'I am the first daughter of Emperor Go-Kashiwabara of Edo Castle.'

An inexplicable silence fell upon everyone in the room with the woman's booming declaration. All eyes were on her, wide and full of shock and disbelief. Suzu though didn't pay much attention to anyone else apart from the warlord whose mouth was partially open and whose eyes reflected no hatred, no malice for once, but in its place pure _astonishment_… and that on its own was an expression she'd personally pay a lot to see if not for her current position.

'And I wouldn't call my _action_ '_falsehood_'… ultimately the blame falls on none but you, Ishida Mitsunari, for dismissing such significant personal details.'

'Do not test my patience, _insolence_,'

The servants watched in utmost confusion at the bickering between the two. They hadn't imagined the woman to be this well-spoken let alone to so freely approach their irate and easily-displeased lord… and yet what unfolded before their eyes was something rather _otherworldly_.

They never imagined such a defiant individual being capable of suppressing the impossible daimyo's antagonism.

'Commit this to memory; woman; that your position however does not falter my opinion of you,' Mitsunari announced, struggling to gain dominance of the situation. 'Your impudence shall cost you plenty, I assure you of _that_.'


	7. Chapter 7

_Falsehood._

_Dishonesty._

_Fickleness._

Ishida Mitsunari could not fathom what on earth was happening to him.

Surely he wasn't dreaming the countless times he'd threatened the peasant woman of his army? Surely the evils of betrayal and deceit were not catching up to him?

Ishida Mitsunari could not fathom the fondness that had grown between him and the woman whom claimed to be the daughter of the Emperor. Ever since the incident where she'd spoken against him, she had seemed to exhibit valiance the daimyo found particularly feeding his "_curiosity_". They were engaged in frequent arguments pertaining to the petty things which would usually vex him to the extreme, but somehow when he quarreled with the woman the trivialities appeared to be of a rather insubstantial quality.

He needed to somehow get rid of this "_curiosity_", and desperately.

The _peach tree_ – the peasant's acquired name, courtesy of his house servants – had ambled callously out of the entrance to the castle. She was carrying along someone with her it seemed by the fact that in the crook of her arm was another arm.

_How cumbersome._

And yet she was an eyesore the daimyo didn't mind looking at.

He didn't question his new perspective of the individual however. He was adequately comfortable with the fact that she didn't get in his way despite her new-found haughtiness on declaring that she was the first daughter of the emperor. After much internal debate, Mitsunari couldn't fathom what she would get out of lying about something so _arbitrary_…

He was staring.

'You are _late_.' The warlord stated, pausing between each word to emphasize the importance of punctuality.

The woman as usual wasn't fazed by her sour general's comment. Instead she mumbled something inaudible to the servant beside her and then flicked her ginger eyes over him. 'I believe we leave for Edo today,' she cracked an impish grin.

_How characteristic of the _scamp_._

'Hachi, Hachi, come with me…! I must show you Edo, it's simply beautiful!' she was pulling the servant by the elbow.

It was a trivial observation, but the woman had grown particularly close to the servants of the castle. Mitsunari would notice this often by the way she would speak to them, as if they were her family of some sorts. She would even sit with them during the past weeks, aid them in their daily chores such as cooking and cleaning the castle… this was another thing that fed his "_curiosity_".

After watching the two women quarrel light-heartedly on the situation, he had mounted his steed and proceeded along the path to that old fool Hojo's province. Enemy troops were reported to have been falling in from Totomi, and thankfully the information was relayed with utmost haste so that the Ishida could put an end to the problem just as fast.

After two days of consecutive travelling however, the '_battle_' proved to be nothing more than an utter nuisance to the daimyo. They didn't seem to belong to any particular province and they were without a leader – only foot soldiers and camp chiefs made up their "_army_".

* * *

Ishida Mitsunari scowled with utmost discontent as he plunged his odachi into the enemy's throat. He watched the gullet spew blood as it pooled beneath the dead body, and like vines, the thick liquid-metal snaked through the grass. He withdrew the blade and surveyed the area that was now barren with the empty presence of dead men. They were scattered about the dry field in uneven piles above one another, and the overpowering stench of death as the God of Misfortune recollected the remains of his own soldiers had brought him to concluding that they would camp further in Totomi for the sake of precaution.

Suzu huffed volubly as she proceeded to reclaim her wakizashi from the ground. The shortened katana had a bad habit of continuously finding its way into the ground for some reason… but that wasn't the reason behind the overwhelming tension that threatened to seize the muscles in her shoulders.

_'The daughter of the emperor…! It truly is an honor to serve you,'_

Hachi had said to her the same evening she had confessed to the warlord. She hadn't expected the servants to believe her, but their superstitious nature in this case had given them enough reason to have faith in her affirmation.

_'Longevity… it is a popular myth that the daughter of an emperor is born with peach-coloured hair, since the peach is a symbol of immortality and love.'_

She was mostly fascinated with Hachi's fictitious stories that revolved around gods and their magical powers, and especially the physical characteristics related to them. But then there was the downfall to this _myth_, that since it is so popular, she would be threatened all her life by greedy men whom seek this _longevity_, _immortality_, and _love_.

And the only way she could protect herself would be by constantly keeping her hair tucked away beneath a helmet. _Great thinking, Hachi_, Suzu thought as she pulled the wakizashi from the moist ground and advanced to the regrouping around their leader.

'We leave at dawn!' was the daimyo's final words before retiring to his solidarity.

The rest of the men instantly began to discontent over the fact that they would be spending another night in the wilderness, but Suzu instead remained in her initial place…

_Further north is Edo._

She bit her lip, suddenly feeling weighed heavily by the disorder of her thoughts that floated back and forth from the _first priority_ position. She knew that any recklessness would cost her some harsh words from her leader, but then again, she didn't have much of a choice.

She was driven by instinct – more than anything else – to step out of line for the final time, hopefully, to travel alone to Edo in search of gaining her life back.

* * *

_A/U: Sorry for producing such a short chapter this time around, but I'll be back now and again to update, Please review the story guys. Reviews are LOVE .A._


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